


Thirty Seven

by nothingeverlost



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wouldn’t be able to tell his dad about the friends he’d made in New York.  He wouldn’t be able to tell how hard he’d studied in math, not knowing why it was so important until his returned memories had reminded him that once he and his dad had talked about the importance of math when charting the starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty Seven

Thirty-seven days. Henry had added it up, each day a tally mark in the dirt, counting from that first meeting in New York to the final goodbye at the town line. He’d known his father for thirty-seven days. A tenth of a year. Less than one percent of his life.

It wasn’t fair.

He wouldn’t be able to tell his dad about the friends he’d made in New York. He wouldn’t be able to tell how hard he’d studied in math, not knowing why it was so important until his returned memories had reminded him that once he and his dad had talked about the importance of math when charting the starts. He wouldn’t even get to ask his dad if he’d gone to the zoo in Central Park like he and his mom had. There were a thousand things he’d done in the last year that maybe his dad had done too, but he’d never know.  
He’d never eat ice cream with his dad again, or play with wooden swords. Henry would never feel his dad’s arms wrapped tight around him.

He’d never even gotten the chance to say goodbye.

Henry used his hand to wipe away the tally marks he’d drawn in the dirt in front of his dad’s headstone. ”It’s not fair.”

"No it’s not." Henry was surprised by the answer. He’d come alone to his dad’s grave.

"I didn’t know who he was, at the funeral. When people were talking about him it was like they were talking about a stranger. Now I remember again, and I miss him, but maybe he’s still a stranger. I barely got to know him." He’d wanted to feel something then, anything at all for the man they’d buried. Now he felt too much.

"Sometimes you can know a person better in a few days than you can in decades." His grandfather didn’t use the cane anymore, but he moved slowly today. 

"I don’t even know stupid things, like his favorite color."

"Green," Gold answered without hesitation. "When he was a boy he’d gather the roots of sorrel to use as a dye."

"His apartment in New York was painted green." He’d only spent one day there, but if he closed his eyes he could recall it as vividly as his home in New York or his old bedroom at his mom’s house. "He had a lot of stuff, sort of like your shop."

"Perhaps some things run in the family." Gold lowered himself, sitting on the ground not quite close enough to be touching.

"Did he have a lot of stuff in his room when he was a kid? Did he ever leave his shoes out where you could trip on them?" His grandpa had never talked to him about what his dad had been like as a kid. Hook had, but he wasn’t sure how much he could trust those stories.

"He didn’t have a room, not one that was his own. Our home was rather small, and during the winter we both slept close to the fire. He did sometimes leave his ball out where it was in the way."

"He was gonna teach me and Pinocchio how to play a game that he used to play when he was a kid. He promised." They were going to be together, his dad had promised. Not even portals or evil great grandfathers had been able to separate them.

"He’d give anything to be able to keep that promise. Belle said he talked about you every day they were in the Enchanted Forest. All he wanted was to find a way back to you." Gold touched the letters on the gravestone, just above his dad’s name.

Beloved Son.

"Magic can’t bring him back, can it?" It wasn’t a question, not really. He’d read the book enough to know that there were things not even magic could accomplish.

"Nothing can change what’s happened."

"Nothing can change the fact that he was my dad." It wasn’t enough, but he would cling to that.

"Nothing can change that either." Gold touched the headstone once more. ’Loving Father’ appeared carved into the stone, just below ‘Beloved Son.’

"It’s still not fair." Henry pressed a finger to the ‘F’ in father. The stone was warm. "I miss him."

"I know," Gold said softly.


End file.
